Page 37 of His Big Bad Stick

Truthfully, it wasn’t even that.

We both knew back then what the end result would be.

And we were both right.

Now, coming back to the present… I need some fucking answers. And I need them right now.

The road turns dark and quiet.

I have about two solid hours of driving like this.

This is a good drive for thinking. Which is why I do it alone.

“It’s time to answer my questions,” I finally say. “No bullshit.”

I look at Abrielle and she’s sleeping.

Hugging her bag, her head tilted to the right, out cold.

She’s taking deep breaths. She’s even purring a little.

Kitten.

I’ve got a long stretch of road ahead of me.

I reach with my right hand into the back seat of the truck and grab for a hoodie.

It’s some dumb promotional hoodie with the team name - NY FROST - on it.

As I drive, I shake the hoodie open and place it on Abrielle.

Then I just drive.

In silence.

My kitten sleeping next to me.

I’m unable and refuse to stop thinking about our conversation.

What do you want in return?

I hear her voice speaking that in my head.

It makes my hands grip the steering wheel tighter.

Could it be any more obvious what I want in return?

I want the one thing I could never have…

I pull up to the cabin and leave the high beams on, along with my truck.

You never know what you’ll find up here. Especially at night.

At least during the day you have sunlight.

I climb out of the truck and walk across the bright lights and to Abrielle’s door.

I open the door slowly, knowing she’s going to basically topple out into my arms.

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